


Clarity

by wolfsan11



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff, Future Fic, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Keith's overwhelmed, M/M, Shiro helps, Temple Kisses, Tenderness, implied married Sheith, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 03:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11327313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsan11/pseuds/wolfsan11
Summary: Shiro runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it away from his forehead.“So. Is there a reason why you’re sitting here half-naked, hair still wet, or is it a new look you’re going for? It really suits you, by the way.”Keith muffles his response into Shiro’s body. “Too tired...And shut up.”-Keith's alone and feeling a little too much at once. Shiro's there for him.





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/gifts).



> Belated Shiro loves you baby day (he's always looking at Keith ;_;)  
> This is a sort of sequel to [What works for us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10178159), it's not necessary to read that first but I'd like to think they're connected.
> 
> I want to gift this to midnightflame. She's been a really great friend in all the time I've known her, and a terrific writer on top of that. She's my inspiration to keep writing and better myself, and she's always been so good and supportive. If you haven't read her stuff yet, please do, she's amazing! <3

The room is cold and quiet, silence split only by the soft sound of trickling water. The bathtub rim digs into his thighs and the crystal-powered lights are almost too dim to see by, but Keith doesn’t really mind.

He’s too tired to care.

His jaw cracks open on a yawn, and he leans over his lap, elbows creating indents on his knees. There’s a thread of exhaustion running through his bones, and it feels like a single tug on it would pull him apart, bring his carefully stacked insides tumbling down like a demolished building.

The showerhead behind him keeps dripping rhythmically, almost in tandem with the water slipping from the strands of his hair and down his spine. He counts the gaps between each droplet, one for each bruise he finds on his body. One, two, three, _drip_ , four, five, six, _drip_ …

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing here. That’s what it comes down to.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Keith looks up slowly, a weak smile pulling at his lips automatically from just hearing that familiar voice.

Shiro leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows creased in fond reprimand as he gazes at Keith. The light of the bedroom is bright over his shoulder, a little like a halo around his hair. Keith stares, and there’s a whole knot of emotion in his chest that manages to get all the more tangled at the sight before him.

“That last battle was a bit of a doozy, huh?” Shiro says, always so understanding, always so _good_ , filling the cracks that Keith’s mind had created, because yes. Yes, it had been. It was nothing new, not after how long they’d been fighting, and nothing special compared to the ones they’d faced before, but in the aftermath it was suddenly…difficult. One battle too many.

And that’s why Keith is here, sitting quiet and miserable in the bathroom, staring at his hands and out into nothing. It’s why he lets his hair sit wet over his shoulders, why he lets himself shiver, unmindful of the chilled air after his cold shower. Why he lets the storm in his ribs grow and grow and grow, because he’s not sure where else to put it.

Shiro pushes away from the entrance and walks in, sidestepping the puddles on the floor. Keith doesn’t move, just watches as Shiro moves closer and reaches out to cradle his jaw. He leans into the touch and hums a quiet noise in his throat. Whatever energy he still has leaves him, and he sags into Shiro’s hold. Shiro easily adjusts though, pulling him closer and wrapping an arm around his shoulder and back.

“You alright?” Shiro asks, and there’s that low tone; careful, and concealing none of his concern. With him, Shiro is always an open book, in the same way Keith is a scroll, unravelled and decrypted for his eyes alone.

Keith doesn’t speak though; just pushes his face against Shiro’s stomach and inhales the soothing scent of whatever counted as soap in this alien ship they called home now. He nods against the black shirt, fabric rumpling under his cheek.

Shiro runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

“So. Is there a reason why you’re sitting here half-naked, hair still wet, or is it a new look you’re going for? It really suits you, by the way.”

Keith muffles his response into Shiro’s body. “Too tired...And shut up.”

Shiro snorts, but he drags his fingers gently through Keith’s scalp in a way that feels wonderful, so Keith mostly decides to forgive him.

“How about we get you dry and into something warm, hm?”

Keith only shrugs, so Shiro grabs the towel that lays draped over the edge of the tub and gathers it in his hands, bringing it to Keith’s hair. He starts with the ends, patting over sections of his hair, absorbing the moisture with each press of the towel. He rubs it lightly over the crown of his head, then the sides, swiping playfully over his ears.

There’s a swelling in Keith’s throat that threatens to choke him with every second that Shiro touches him so lovingly, but he pushes it down, kneading his forehead into Shiro’s stomach. His hands come up to meld to Shiro’s hips, an anchor in the midst of the black swallowing him.

Shiro pauses in his work, lifting the towel away. Then there’s a hand at the nape of his neck, a finger tilting up his chin and the brush of Shiro’s mouth at his temple.

“You’re okay. I’m here babe. I’ve got you…you’re alright.”

Keith heaves a shallow breath and another, screwing his eyes shut. He registers the press of metal at his neck, and the rushing thoughts come to a slow halt, a pinpoint of light shining through the darkness crowding his brain.

Shiro wraps himself around Keith and holds him close, whispers painting away at his emotions until they’re bright and clear and settled. The ring is warm against his skin. Keith smiles and breathes easy.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really get to write for Sheith day, because I've been pretty much overwhelmed by a ton of anxiety and work and just...holding on I guess. And then this came out, late yeah, but it was basically my nostalgia for when my parents would towel dry my hair for me as a kid. I guess I just projected that all onto Keith here. Hope you liked it <3 :)


End file.
